


Blue

by ZombieBabs



Series: TBTP Tumblr Prompts [7]
Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friendship, Fuck The Canon Age Gap, Gen, Humor, Middle School, Tumblr Prompt Party, supply closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 03:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieBabs/pseuds/ZombieBabs
Summary: All Alex Reagan wanted was some blue paint.My entry for the Tumblr prompt party. My prompt: I’m in art class and I just opened a cupboard to find a tiny person (you) squished inside and you just looked at me and said “Shh...I’m hiding.”





	Blue

**Author's Note:**

> This was so much fun to write. Thanks to [eleanor-3](http://eleanor-3.tumblr.com) on Tumblr for being an amazing Prompt Master, as always.

Alex Reagan takes a mental step back. It’s easy to see the small details. The little things that make up the larger whole. But what Alex Reagan prides herself in, what she’s always prided herself in, is her ability to see the bigger picture.

The picture, in this case, is perhaps more literal than anything else. The waterlogged paper before her shows a rather disappointing version of the still life she and her classmates are supposed to be reproducing. The orbs of the grapes are lopsided. The plump, heart-shaped strawberries are also misshapen, but the seeds Alex has dotted all over them create the illusion they are crawling with bugs. And the navel orange, which should be sitting jauntily on its side, its single leaf standing proud, looks more like a deflated basketball than a delicious piece of fruit.

Alex dips her brush into the muddy cup of water at her elbow. She swirls it until the brush is clean. She moves to place it into the blue, to finish her masterpiece with a cheerful, not in any way, shape, or form lazy, background, and frowns. The blue is empty.

“What happened to all the blue?”

Nic shrugs, as if Alex cannot see his entire paper has been painted a single, solid shade of navy blue. “Guess we’re out,” he says, grinning.

Alex rolls her eyes. She glances around for Ms. duMont, but the art teacher is nowhere in sight.

Alex shoves herself away from the table. It’s not uncommon for Ms. duMont to step out of the classroom (to the great speculation of the entire class). They’re in middle school—they can obviously take care of themselves. And should taking care of themselves mean helping themselves to the supplies in the supply closet? 

Well, Alex has always found it easier to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.

No one pays her any attention as she makes her way to the back of the classroom. She opens the door, much as she would any other door, any other day. Except this time, Alex yelps and leaps back in surprise, her heart hammering in her chest. She lets the door slam shut and flinches as the conversation dies around her.

“You okay, Reagan?” Nic asks. “Need some help over there?”

Alex laughs and shakes her head. “Just a spider. I’ve got it.”

Nic shudders, his whole body wracked with the dramatization of his disgust for all things with six or more legs.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Alex teases.

“Yeah, well, hurry up and get that paint, will you? I really feel like I’ve tapped into something great here, you know?”

Alex makes a show of rolling her eyes. She waits a few moments, until all students have gone back to their work, before she opens the door to the same strange sight as before.

A boy.

He stands at the very back, pressed against the shelf along the far wall, as if he could become one with it, if only he tried. His dark hair is messy, hanging over his forehead. His blue eyes are wide behind a pair of thick, plastic frames.

He’s vaguely familiar to Alex and yet, she’s certain she’s never spoken to him before. 

“Hello?”

The boy flinches. 

“What are you doing in there?”

The boy’s eyes grow impossibly wider. He glances at something behind Alex, then back to Alex.

Before she can say another word, the boy lunges forward. He grabs her by the wrist and _pulls_ her into the closet. He closes the door behind them, leaving them both in pitch black.

“What—“

The boy’s hand clamps over her mouth. “Shh!”

Alex waits until the boy releases her to whisper fiercely. “What the heck is going on?”

“We’re hiding.”

Alex blinks. She looks around, but can see nothing in the darkness of the closet. “Hiding? From what?”

The boy doesn’t answer.

“Listen,” Alex says, trying to be reasonable. “I just want some paint. If you want to skip class hiding in this closet, that’s none of my business.”

The boy’s eyes must be adjusted to the dark of the closet, because his hand wraps around her wrist. “You can’t.”

“Can’t what? Rummage through Ms. duMont’s stuff? I do it all the time.”

“Go,” the boy says. “You can’t go.”

Alex frowns. “Why not?”

Again the boy refuses to speak.

“Whatever,” Alex says, trying to shake off his hold. “You’re pretty weird, you know that?”

“It saw you,” the boy says.

Alex stops, frowning. “It?”

“The shadow.”

A thrill of fear runs down the Alex’s spine. The kid says it with such conviction, but there’s no way it’s real. 

Alex’s frown pulls up at the edges, a smile spreading across her face. “Oh my God, you almost had me. What the heck, kid? You just hang out in closets scaring people all day?”

The boy releases a sigh, heavy with frustration, just on the verge of anger. “You don’t believe me.”

Alex laughs. “C’mon. You can drop the act, dude. But maybe think about auditioning for the drama club, yeah? You really had me going for a second.”

The boy’s grip tightens on Alex’s wrist. “I’m not lying. I’m not making things up.”

“Sure you’re not. Definitely, some kind of shadow monster is lying in wait out there—“ Alex pauses, frowning again. “What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t,” the boy says. “It’s Richard. Richard Strand.”

Alex blinks. She knows that name. But from where?

“Go ahead and laugh,” the boy says.

“Why would I laugh?”

“You don’t have to pretend. I’m not...unaware of what people say about me. About my family.”

Alex shakes her head. Can the boy even see it? “Really, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I only just moved here a few weeks ago. From Seattle.”

She misses Seattle, truthfully. Her house, her school, her best friend, Amalia. But the small town in Pennsylvania she and her family have ended up in isn’t too bad. She met Nic, the first day at school. Even though she isn’t into D&D at all, they still have a lot in common. The school isn’t terrible. In fact, she’s ahead of the classes here, putting her in the good graces of her teachers early on. They even have a decent newspaper, for which Alex has already written several articles.

“Seattle,” Richard says. The way it rolls around on his tongue sounds as if he’s testing the truthfulness of her statement.

“Yeah.” She holds out her hand until the boy takes it. “I’m Alex. Nice to meet you, Richard.”

Richard shakes her hand. Hesitantly, just as he lets go of her hand, he says, “My friends call me Richie.”

Richie.

Strange Richie Strand.

Nic told her about Richie Strand and his strange family. How Richie’s father is always away, how no one ever really sees his mother. How he and his sister keep to their small circle of friends, never inviting anyone back to their house up on the hill. The rumors range anywhere from Richie’s dad being in the mafia, off assassinating world leaders, to a grave robber, raiding lost tombs. Or Richie’s mom being a witch, a descendant of one killed in the Witch Trials, who has kept up her youthful appearance by bathing in the blood of lambs.

“Oh,” Alex says.

The air shifts around them, becoming chilly. “I see,” Richie says. “You _have_ heard of me.”

Alex winces. “Only a little.”

When Richie doesn’t reply, Alex continues, quickly, weakly, not at all convincingly, “I’m sure what the other kids say isn’t true. Your mom’s not a witch and your dad—“

The voice which interrupts her cracks, betraying the intended ferocity of his words. “My mother _what_?”

“Sorry,” Alex says. She glances behind her where she knows the door to be, wondering if she can make a quick exit to escape the sudden awkwardness. “It’s just a rumor. Just kids being stupid. You shouldn’t worry about it.”

“No. I want to hear it.”

“You really don't.”

“Tell me.”

Alex swallows. “I, uh, heard she was a witch. Like, one from all the way back to the Witch Trials. Supposedly, ah, supposedly she bathes in—“

Richie’s voice is tight. “What? The blood of children she steals in the night?”

“Uh, no. I, uh, it’s lamb. Like, a baby sheep.”

“I _know_ what a lamb is, thank you.”

A knock comes at the door, followed by the voice of Nic. “Hey, Reagan. You get lost? The bell is going to ring soon.”

By now, Alex’s eyes have finally adjusted. She looks between Richie and the door. “Pesky paint. Can’t find it anywhere.”

“You want help?”

“No, no,” Alex says. “Wouldn’t want you to get mauled by spiders. I’ve seen at least three in here. Big ones. I think one even whispered your name.”

“Not funny, Reagan,” Nic whines. “Just be quick, okay? We _cannot_ be late to Mr. Braun’s class. Not again, anyway.”

Footsteps shuffle away, leaving Alex once again alone with Richie Strand.

“Are we okay?”

“To leave?” Richie says. “I think so. I can’t feel it anymore, so it must have given up.”

“I meant, are we okay? You and me? You’re not angry?”

Richie’s brows jump in surprise. “I—yes. I’m not angry with you, in any case.”

Considering Alex hasn’t told him _half_ of what she’s heard in the halls of their school, she can understand why he’d be upset. _She_ would be upset if people were saying ridiculous things about her own family.

“But the shadow thing,” Alex says. “You really think it’s—“

Real, she wants to ask. But she doesn’t want to risk hurting his feelings.

“It’s not some figment of my imagination. My sister, she can see them, too. Since we were little.”

“And they, what, follow you around?”

Richie sighs. “It’s my fault. I let them in. Cheryl told me not to, but I opened the door. And now they won’t leave us alone.”

“Have you told anyone about this?”

“No one will believe me. My father, he—“ Richie cuts himself short, looking down at his tennis shoes.

“It’s okay,” Alex says. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t see anything, but maybe it didn’t want me to?”

Again, Richie seems taken aback. “You believe me?”

“Well, yeah, I guess. My mom always says not everything can be explained. Maybe this is one of those things. The unexplainable.”

Richie frowns. “That isn’t what my father says. He tries to explain it all with science, that it’s just a figment of my overactive imagination.”

Alex’s lips turn down in a frown matching Richie’s. She hasn’t met his father, and regardless of the truth—or, more than likely, the untruth—behind the rumors, she has a feeling she already doesn’t like the man.

“I’ll help you,” Alex says.

“You’ll what?”

Alex nods, cementing her choice in spite of the incredulity of his voice. “I’ll help you figure out what the shadow things are. I’ve always wanted to be a part of an investigation.”

“An investigation?”

“I’m going to be a reporter, one day,” Alex says. “So, I know exactly how we should start.”

Richie opens his mouth, but before anything can come out, the bell rings, signalling the end of class.

“Since you think it’s safe to come out now, I’m going to get to my next class. But after school, meet me at the library?”

“You’re serious?”

“Definitely,” Alex says. She reaches out and cuffs him on the shoulder, watching with even further dislike for the boy’s father when Richie flinches back. “Don’t leave me hanging, alright?”

“I—alright.”

Alex smiles. “Good. See ya then.”

Aware of the time already ticking for her to get to her next class, Alex doesn’t waste any time exiting the closet. She makes a mental note when Richie doesn’t immediately follow her, but smiles at him when he finally does slip out of the closet, his eyes scanning the room for trouble. She gathers her things and with a final wave, rushes off to Mr. Braun’s history class.

The way Mr. Braun drones on and on is always a challenge for Alex, but it’s made even more difficult as she squirms in her seat, eagerly awaiting the last bell of the day.

Finally, a real investigation.

And not just the mystery of the shadow monster...thing only Richie Strand can see.

No, half the fun of the investigation will be learning about the enigmatic Richie Strand himself.


End file.
